


On the Right Note

by lar_laughs



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Music & Bands, Community: stargateland, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lar_laughs/pseuds/lar_laughs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard's a small town boy wanting to make it big in the music industry.  While he loses the family he was born into because of this decision, he gains a whole new one along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Obligation

**Author's Note:**

> This is finished because of the dedication of my beta, Aster, who did a lot of handholding. She is the wind beneath my wings! *grins*

It's taken exactly three years and a collection of fifty-seven songs to get to this place but John Sheppard is finally in the office of a Senior Executive in Charge of New Talent for Atlantis Records. Teyla is beside him because that is where Teyla has always been. No, that's not right. For the last year and a half, she's been behind him, sometimes literally pushing him forward. Like, for instance, when she had to push him off the bus outside this massive building because his feet had forgotten how to work. Or the time she pushed him out the door of Brody's after he'd had too much to drink but refused to leave. That was when she'd found out that he had no where to live. 

From near vagrant to a possible recording contract in three years. Teyla thinks Atlantis Records is a good fit for him and John thinks she's crazy because it's ATLANTIS RECORDS and he actually owns CDs with their logo on it. He assumed they would throw him out as soon as they got a good look at him because he can't get his hair to lay down but Teyla thinks it looks sexy and his t-shirt is wrinkled but he couldn't get the iron working. Now he's sitting in the office (with the best view of any office he'd ever been in) of a senior executive in charge of new talent. Ms. Weir had told him to call her Elizabeth and he would if he could work up the courage to say anything. So far, Teyla's done all the talking. Or they listened to his demo tape which he thought sounded muddled and completely unprofessional now that he hears it _here_. This is the building where truly great music is produced. Well, maybe not here in this building. But somewhere.

"I love your sound. It's not something that anyone's doing right now. I think we can make it into something really special."

He doesn't like the way Elizabeth keeps using the term _we_ as if she were royal or, worse than that, she thinks the two of them are some sort of team. John's been around enough people in his life that want a piece of him, in one way or another, that he's wary of letting anyone have a piece of him. Because he'd rather play in the corner of Brody's for the rest of his life than doing anything that would make it impossible for him to play his music the way he wants to play it.

Just when he's about to say something stupid, Teyla lays a hand on his arm. Her calm demeanor centers him most of the time but today he can't seem to find the point at which he can sit quietly any longer. His dreams are within his reach so of course he's going to do something to screw it up.

Like when he decided that he had what it took to be a professional musician but not to work for his father's company. His brother was currently working his way through the ranks of the professional elite, learning to be a "yes" man in every definition of the word, but that was never what John wanted. He likes having a song running through his head and the freedom to sit down at a table to write down the notes whenever he pleases. He likes the roar of applause when the song reverberates around the people who hear it. There's even something satisfying about a silence when a song doesn't go over well because it means he tried. He isn't about to settle for living in his father's shadow. Not now. Not ever.

Teyla understands that. They've been friends long enough for her to know most of his secrets even though he doesn't know a lot of hers. At least not the important ones. Like who the father of her child is or what she did before she showed up at Brody's, apron in hand, and asked for a job without really asking because Adam will say that he doesn't remember actually ever saying "You're hired." She inspired _Childhood's End_ after a long conversation they had one night when neither of them could sleep. And, most importantly, she nurtured his dreams when no one else seemed to think he could take his music to the next level.

When he told his dad that he wasn't going to college but was going to play his music for a living, his dad had laughed and handed him a plastic bag. "If you can fit it in the bag, you can take it out of my house. Everything else stays until you face reality. You're going to college."

Two t-shirts, his good pair of jeans, two pairs of socks, two changes of underwear and the framed picture of his mom that had been beside his bed since she died. It was enough of a legacy. He was glad that his dad had thrown him out because he didn't want the old man thinking he owed him anything. This contract with Atlantis, if it became a reality, is going to be his free and clear.

When Elizabeth leans closer, John realizes she'd probably said something to him that he hadn't heard because he was wondering just where the studio was located. He clears his throat and tries to concentrate. He was smart enough to graduate high school a year early. Surely he's smart enough to figure out what he needs to say here.

"Yes."

"Yes?" Clearly that's the wrong thing to say because Elizabeth is frowning at him.

"No?" John looks over at Teyla for some guidance. He decides to go with honesty. "Sorry. I was wondering where the music studio was and sort of lost track of the conversation."

This is the perfect thing to say because Elizabeth starts to laugh, first in disbelief and then with true joy. "You're perfect, John. I want you here at Atlantis. Let's have you meet with our engineer and you can see the music studio up close and personal."


	2. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Sheppard's a small town boy wanting to make it big in the music industry. While he loses the family he was born into because of this decision, he gains a whole new one along the way.

Teyla tells him to stop worrying but he can't let go of the feeling that has haunted him ever since he sat down in the chair next to the engineer and it fell over backwards. Sometimes there is such a thing as fate and destiny and all that crap that he's spent his life running from.

The contract is signed and notarized and whatever else needed to be done but John is sure that the phone is going to ring and someone on the other side is going to tell him it's been a joke. He jumps at every sound even though he tries to hide it and Teyla mostly ignores him and Torren thinks it's hilarious that Uncle John has suddenly started playing a fun game with him that isn't unlike the things he sees on TV.

It's all a little too much and John has to leave before he goes insane with the stress. He leaves his guitar because he'd have to explain why he's leaving with it and then assure Teyla that he'll be back and she doesn't have to worry about him because only one of them should be wrapped up in jittery nerves. Even though he doesn't have his guitar, he ends up at Brody's. The place is as much home as Teyla's is and more than the manor house ever was. Adam is there himself tonight, tending bar like the old days before the place got a reputation and started having more than just the three regulars that showed up every Sunday to watch football.

"You going to sing tonight?" he asks, wiping his hands on the ever-present towel on his shoulder. "People have been asking about you?"

"People have been... asking?" It feels like John has swallowed his tongue because he doesn't think the record label has said anything yet. No one should even know his name.

But Brody nods toward the middle of the room where a man and woman sit, their heads together as if they really want to hear what the other is saying. "Okay, two. But they're not the teenage girls that normally ask for you so it made an impression. Asked for you specifically. First name and last."

John wonders if this is the sign he's been waiting for and one of these people is asking for him here so he can't make a scene when they fire him. Still, he figured he has to get it over some time and he's tired of waiting for fate to hand him the bad news on her time schedule. He grabs the only other chair at their table and turns it around so he can lean on the back. It feels better having the protection of the thin plastic covering his core, as if he needs some sort of bullet-proof vest for this conversation.

"Hi. I'm John. Heard you were asking about me." He considers holding out his hand but decides against it when the woman's eyes go wide. This is what Teyla has been telling him he'll need to get used to, this adulation as if people really know him just because they like his music. It's a little strange watching it start from the very beginning because the teenage girls always come to the bar to hear him already tittering like magpies.

The man is much more serious but he doesn't offer his hand so John feels better about his own apparent lack of manners. "I can make you sound better than any joker you have working for you right now."

"Excuse me?"

"I heard you're working with Zelenka. He's going to flatten you out. I heard you once. Here, as a matter of fact. Without anything but the crappiest sound system available on the market today and you sounded better than most produced people in the music business. I can make you sound even better."

John isn't sure if he should be impressed or scared. He vaguely remembers that the engineer with the faulty chair was named something vaguely ethic but he was too busy trying to pull himself back together to follow much more of the conversation at the studio that day. They'd wanted him to sing for them but he made up some excuse about not having his guitar even though there was a rack of the shiniest instruments he'd ever laid eyes on. Teyla had reminded everyone present that he wasn't under contract yet so they'd let him go without making too much of a fuss.

Before he could answer, the woman hit the man in the shoulder. "You're rambling again. I know what you're talking about and even I'm lost." She remembers her manners because her hand is suddenly stretched out. "My name is Jeannie Miller. This is my brother, Mer-"

"Rodney! My name is Rodney!" He slaps his sister's hand away before John can get a good grip on it. "She's enamored with your hair."

"I'm going to design school," she explains even though John isn't exactly sure what sort of question she's answering. How hair and design go together, he's not sure, but he nods his head like it all makes sense. "I like the t-shirt and jeans look on you but I think you need something... different. Something special."

"Please, Jeannie. You promised you wouldn't interfere if I let you come."

"I'm not interfering. I just think you were right."

As cute as it is to watch siblings argue (because he didn't get enough of it with Dave when they were younger and still cared that there was another warm body in the house), he's pretty sure that Teyla will start to worry if he's gone much longer. He doesn't even bother to wait for one of them to breath because they're talking over each other so that all he hears is babbling. Instead of trying to respond, he stands up and begins to move back to the bar.

"Where are you going?" Rodney calls after him.

He turns back toward them but only part of the way. As he lifts his rapidly warming beer to his lips, he contemplates the small stage that he grew up playing on. His words are directed there instead of the two gap-mouthed people watching him as if he's the strange one. "The way I see it, I'm under contract with Atlantis so if either one of you want to work with me, you're going to have to check in with the people from the label. Nothing I can do to sway them."

"But... but... but," and it's heady watching Rodney reduced to only one word as if he's suddenly lost all knowledge of the English language. He's gone strangely pale.

"What my brother is trying to say is that he does need your voucher. See, he got kicked off an Atlantis job. Cute girl. Sam Carter. You've probably heard of her. He's enamored. Set the equalizer wrong at one of her concerts and nearly sent the entire audience to the hospital with hearing damage. She's their top act right now so that means that Rodney is persona non grata around that place."

John considers walking away and not looking back but he feels bad for the guy. He doesn't know why, seeing as he hadn't known the guy fifteen minutes ago, but there's something about the way his lower lip is actually _quivering_ that makes John want to help him out. Still, making demands like this could ruin his career before he even gets it off the ground so he decides to give the guy a trial.

"Think you work with the system here?"

"I can work with anything," Rodney boosts. The moment he realizes what he's said, he tries to back out of the statement but John's already moving toward the stage.

It's odd to sing without any accompaniment but John's done it before. He'd like to hear what Rodney can do with more than just a voice, though. There's a big guy up near the stage, a dark guitar case leaning against his leg. John's seen him around here before and has heard him play a time or two. The guy's got talent even if his singing voice is more suited for background vocals. That alone gives John an idea.

"Hey, you feel up to playing a song or two?" he asks when he's standing in front of the guy. What was his name? He vaguely remembers being introduced to him. Rod? Ron... Ronon. That's it. Ronon Dex. "I could use someone backing me up."

For a long moment, Ronon just stares at him like he's crazy and John is afraid that maybe Rodney's brand of crazy rubbed off on him. Just when he thinks about turning around and pretending he didn't stop, the man nods. "Sure."

If he was expecting more words, John is sorely disappointed because Ronon picks up his case and walks on to the stage as if they'd planned the whole thing out. In fact, he starts to strum the opening chords to the last song John did here. Even though he doesn't remember if Ronon was in the audience, it doesn't mean he wasn't somewhere in the shadows where John wouldn't have noticed him or hadn't heard the songs in John's typical set before. It's no secret that John likes to sing a few well-worn favorites because everyone likes those already before sneaking in a few of his own.

John thinks about asking him if he knows the words but decides it doesn't matter if the guy decides to sing with him or not. He's good with just this.

Before he steps up on stage, he touches the black wristguard on his left hand to his forehead. As always, the memory of his mother's last words come to him. _Whatever you do, Johnny, do it with your whole heart._ Nothing will ever keep him from the promise he made to his mother. Not his father. Not a record label. Not some guy at the sound board who may or may not be a master at his craft. He's going to sing with his whole heart, no matter what.


	3. Dimples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special Guest Appearance by Larrin in this chapter!

They start out on what feels like a Billion Little City tour, a phrase that is coined by Rodney after they enter the city limits of yet another town in the middle of Kansas... or Missouri... or Illinois, that has neither a McDonald's (Ronon's favorite in a strange twist of fate since he is, in fact, a vegetarian) or a nationwide hotel chain. Ronon refuses to eat anywhere that looks like a greasy spoon and Rodney refuses to sleep anywhere that doesn't have a website (as if that means the cleaning staff is any more thorough) so they do a lot of compromising. Or, rather, John does a lot of compromising. 

He's thought about throwing both the men from the moving car but the plain truth of the matter is that he needs them. Not only for driving, which is a perk because he rarely has to take a shift behind the wheel of the unwieldily vehicle which drives like a tank mired in mud, but because they both add to his sound in ways he'd never dreamed of. Rodney does have a gift with getting wonderful sound out of low-end sound boards that has proved to be more than useful on this tour of crappy venues. He was also able to remix _Thirty-Eight Minutes_ so that it suddenly made more sense than before. And Ronon may not be much of a conversationalist (although he and Rodney poke at each other like an old, married couple) but he shifts into this amazing performer when he steps onto the stage or into the studio. Put a guitar into his hands and he turns into a virtuoso that just seems to feel where the music needs to go next. While his voice isn't strong, it's very pure and sounds good with John's growl. Many nights, they don't have a set list when they walk into a club and John just lets Ronon go where he thinks the music is taking them.

Teyla tags along when they're closer to home because she doesn't want to leave Torren for too long. She's got family that is more than happy to take care of him but she feels she needs to be a mother first and a band groupie second. When she's around, Rodney whines less and Ronon doesn't grimace quite as much and John is able to let some of the worry ease off his shoulders. It's strange how she completes the group so perfectly. He'd ask her to come by more often but he feels guilty dragging her away from her life. There isn't a night that goes by that he doesn't miss her more than he ever thought he'd miss anyone after the death of his mother.

Jeannie is the other addition to the group from time to time, a fact which makes Rodney's lips thin. He would rather she stayed in her dorm room where he can imagine her safe and sound and doing some sort of math problem with her sewing patterns. When she comes with them, they usually have to lure her away from dark corners where groups of men are intent of buying her drinks and putting their contact information in her phone. The only person who likes this duty less than Rodney is Ronon, who has become strangely protective of the girl. He's also the only one who will let her talk about Kaleb, the love of her life, for hours on end. Even though they've never met the guy in person (he's too busy being serious about getting his Master's in English, which Rodney seems to find worthy of many jabs and insults, to ever join them), they all know far too much about him because Jeannie hasn't learned the value of silence.

The real reason that John lets Jeannie tag along is because she's the one who discovered just what was wrong with _Hide and Seek_. One night, as they were practicing before a gig, John suddenly hears what's been in his head all along. When he looks over at the sound board, it's Jeannie's curly hair he can barely see and not Rodney's sparse thatch. She waves and gives him a thumbs up. He has Ronon start up in a different key and they take it a little faster and the sound he hears is so amazing he feels tears behind his eyelids, threatening to fall before he can get control of his responses. It's so perfect he doesn't believe they can recreate it again but then Ronon starts playing the beginning notes later that night and the crowd begins to scream along in the chorus as if it's their favorite song instead of the one John rarely plays because he's so unsure of it.

A radio DJ gets hold of a pirated video that some girl shot of the concert and calls up Elizabeth, wanting to know why they don't have a copy of that song to play. She hustles John and Ronon into the studio and has a disc in the mail the next day, with everyone's blessing. In a month's time, the song cracks the top 100 and John is forced to do his first interview. It's a rushed thing so he barely has time to worry about it before he's giving the woman across the table a shy smile and trying to figure out how to explain what his music means. Most of the answers are easy enough and he gives Ronon a lot of credit for their newest song, _Runner_ , because he came up with the melody line. He even finds a way to work in Teyla and Rodney into the interview and is mildly surprised to see that all three names are in the article when it comes out.

He gets the first congratulatory phone call the day the magazine comes out. It's Adam and he wants to book them back at Brody's as soon as they're in the area. "Gotta cash in on your success," he says and John has to laugh because he never thought he'd ever hear those words.

The first groupie encounter is much less exciting. Two girls corner him in a random grocery store in a random town. He'd scraped his elbow on a rough edge of the van and needed a band-aid. While he drips blood on the floor of Aisle 5, he signs a shirt for one of the girls (which she's still wearing at the time) and a sheet of ripped notebook paper for the other one. Their ramblings are mostly unintelligible but John doesn't care what they say because it's the first time anyone's ever noticed him. As he picks out a box of band-aids and hurriedly pays for them, he wonders if this is an indication of things to come or a one-time occurrence. By the time he gets to the van, he's forgotten it happened.

Rodney gets the next interview for some little-known magazine that has him frothing at the mouth because they cut most of what he said. When Ronon makes some quip about wishing he could cut out most of what Rodney says, Rodney actually launchs himself at the much larger man. It takes John several minutes to get them apart and, when he does, he's got more bruises and scratches than the other two. It takes a call from Jeannie to calm them both down but it's three days before there's any conversation while they're in the van. John enjoys the silence.

It's two more months before they find themselves playing a club that can hold more than a hundred people. John's more impressed with the fact that the green room doesn't feel like a converted gym locker room. He almost falls asleep on the couch they have set up, mostly because it reminds him of the one that he slept on while he lived with Teyla. There's an ache in his throat as he realizes that Teyla hasn't been on the road with them for any of this new stuff. She's called him a couple of times but Torren's had the chicken pox and three ear infections so she's spent a fair amount of time in doctor's offices and emergency rooms.

It's odd that his real life is so different from hers now. Not always a good different either. He misses her more than he thought he would, wishing he could share more with her without it feeling like he's just pushing himself further away.

Just as he gets out his cell phone to call her, the door opens. A stunning woman in black leather walks in, looking like every teenage boy's wet dream. John tries to get upright but she's pushing at his chest, keeping him in his prone position. She licks her lips before she starts talking and he finds that he can't look away.

"You're perfect. Just perfect. Every bit the playboy that I heard you were."

"Excuse me?" he stammers, wondering where she might have heard that bit of gossip.

But she continues on like she hasn't heard him. "And that hair. It's like it's own entity. I love it." Her hand snakes through his hair, sending tendrils of desire coiling down his spine even as his head reminds him that women aren't just supposed to walk into the green room and start making love to his hair with a hand full of lethal nails that have got to be fake.

Before he can think about trying to get away, she's got her other hand down at his crotch. "And I think I love this."

"How would you know?" he asks in a voice that's all twisted up because he can't quite remember how to breath. There is something disturbing about how much he likes this. "You've never seen it. Not that I'm not proud of it but, well, I'm not that kind of guy."

"What kind?" She crawls up on him, her knee wedged in where her hand was so that he can't even begin to think about getting away without ending up with a singing voice a couple of octaves higher than normal. "The kind that takes what's offered? You haven't even asked my name."

He's pretty sure that knowing her name isn't going to change his answer. It's been years since he's had sex, not because he doesn't like it but because he had other things on his mind. All his energy goes into his music so that there's barely anything left for the moments that aren't all tied up with orphan lines that need a rhyming couplet or phrases of haunting music that need fulfillment.

But she seems to think it's going to make a difference. "My name is Larrin and I own this joint. My God. You have great dimples."

Of course she does. With a sigh, John tries to figure out just how he's going to get out of this and still have a concert to play tonight. He's almost got the right words when he hears the door open.

"They told me you were up here and that... and that... John?"

With wide eyes full of dread, he turns to stare at Teyla. She's holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a squirming Torren in the other. It's been months since he's seen her and she looks exactly as he remembers but she's done something to her hair and she might be wearing makeup. Right now, he'd give anything to be able to jump up and drag her out of the room so that he can convince her this isn't happening. That she isn't thinking of all the horrible things that are flitting across her eyes right now.

Larrin doesn't let him get up (that knee is beginning to remind him of it's presence in the most painful of ways) and, by the time she finally lets him up, he can't find Teyla before it's time to go up on stage. He searches for her all through the concert, his eyes roaming over the shadows until he's memorized everyone in the place. They tell him it's the best concert he's ever played, the passion really coming through in a way it never has before.


	4. Marvelous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Sheppard's a small town boy wanting to make it big in the music industry. While he loses the family he was born into because of this decision, he gains a whole new one along the way.

Elizabeth is so excited, she can't sit still. For the last fifteen minutes, she's riffed on two topics. The first is about the invitations from talk shows that have been streaming in. The second is that both _Aurora_ and _Epiphany_ have gotten into the Top 100 within the first two weeks of both of them being released. She'd been unsure about releasing them both so quickly but John had been insistent. He'd discovered that he could have his demands met pretty quickly if he dangled the _Or I could just pack up and go home_ card in front of Elizabeth. It felt wrong to throw a tantrum like a child but he needed those two songs to be on the radio at the same time. Maybe... maybe....

It's been nearly a year since Teyla had walked away without a word. He tried showing up at her house once, without any sort of notice, but the place had been locked up tight. The key wasn't in its normal place under the mat. In fact, the place look deserted. He'd gone to Brody's but Adam refused to talk about Teyla and no one else seemed to know who she was. A lot had happened since the last time he'd stopped by but the desperation in his eyes kept anyone from asking for an autograph.

The nightmares that she'd decided to start a new life so that he couldn't find her were bad. Rodney made a snide remark about her moving on to a whole new group of friends and John felt his whole world collapse around him because he wonders if he's pushed her that far. Maybe she'd met someone else. Another guy. Another guy who could spend time with her and hadn't been caught in a compromising position on a green room couch. Until that moment, John had never realized just how important Teyla was to him.

Now he knows and it's killing him. Slowly. A little part of his heart dies each day that he can't talk to her. Their schedule is keeping him from doing anything rash like returning to his hometown and stalking the place for any sign of Teyla but he knows that would only push her further away. The very last thing he needs is to have her decide that he's not worth the effort and take out a restraining order. He's going to have to be creative.

Ronon is sympathetic because Jeannie is going forward with this sudden notion of hers that she's going to marry Kaleb the day after she graduates and it's been rough on the big guy. He's taken a real shine to Rodney's little sister, something either Rodney doesn't know or doesn't mind because he hasn't said one word about the fact that his little sister keeps calling Ronon's phone and not his.

But then Rodney is oblivious to everything these days. Atlantis Records has approved of a new mixing board for road tours now that they're in a real bus and the equipment is better protected. He can't, or won't, talk about anything else. The truth of the matter is that the sound he gets from the machine is like magic. There's no one better than Rodney McKay and he knows it.

"I have some thoughts about this new tour," Elizabeth is saying and John hopes that Ronon is paying attention because he hasn't been listening since _The powers that be really like this new stuff you've got playing but they think you should maybe try for a new sound. Something less maudlin._ They want peppy, do they? Well, John Sheppard can't do peppy. Or happy. Or anything that might be played at a prom or a wedding or any place where people are happy.

"That sounds great." Ronon slaps John on the back hard enough to wake him up out of this current fugue state. "I think that's the perfect thing for John right now."

"Marvelous," Elizabeth says with that smug little smile she wears when she's happy about the outcome of their conference. "Let's see. This coming week you have an appearance at a few late night talk shows. They want to hear _Before I Sleep_ as well as _Epiphany_ -"

"No." John makes sure that he's looking Elizabeth straight on so that she sees just how much he means that word.

"What?"

"We're not doing _Before I Sleep_." He looks at Ronon to make sure they're on the same page before he turns back to Elizabeth. "And we're taking it out of our set list altogether. That one and _Home_. We're not doing either of those."

She looks confused which, for Elizabeth, is saying something. "I don't think I understand. After _Epiphany_ and _Aurora_ , those are your two top songs. You have to play those. It would be like throwing money away if you didn't." 

"We're not doing those songs," Ronon restates as if Elizabeth hadn't understood John. His phone rings and he flips it open, unaware (or uncaring) of the social norms that said it was impolite to take a phone call in the middle of a meeting with a high ranking executive like Elizabeth Weir. "Hey, Jeannie. Yeah? Really? We'll be there in an hour. See you then."

He closes the phone, a thoughtful expression marring his usual frown. "We need to get to the airport."

"But we haven't... that is... we're not done." It's a sight to behold when Elizabeth gets flustered but there really is not arguing with Ronon. "Will you be at the photo shoot tomorrow?"

After pausing to consider the time table that only he seemed to understand, Ronon nodded. "We can make the photo shoot." He claps his hands on his jean-clad thighs as he stands up. "Nice talking to you, Elizabeth."

John lets himself be ushered from the room because he's just as baffled by this turn of events. On their previous schedule, he should have been daydreaming his way through at least another hour of this meeting. He didn't know if he should be thanking Ronon as they got into the old, beat up van that they still drove around town. 

"What was all of that? Why'd you lie to get us out of there?"

"Didn't lie. We need to be at the airport."

"Rodney getting some more of that imported cheese that needs to be signed out of customs?"

Ronon looks at him from the corner of his eye, the barest hint of exasperation in the set of his mouth. It's the most emotion John's seen from him in weeks. "If you were supposed to know what was going on, you would have been the one getting the phone call."

Just to be sure he hadn't been the one they called first, John pulls his phone out of his hip pocket. Seeing as he didn't ever get many calls, it takes him five minutes just to turn the damn thing on. He hasn't missed any calls but there is a random text that he'd forgotten about getting. _Shower today._ Rodney gets more cryptic every day. Was it question? No, he would have put a question mark because if it's one thing that gets Rodney more riled up, it's the lack of proper punctuation and grammar in a text.

"Why do you think Rodney wanted to make sure I showered today?"

The explosive laughter from Ronon is not comforting. "Cause the man is a cretin and he's convinced everyone else is, too."

"Funny, he said the same thing about you last week."

There's silence in the van until Ronon reaches over to turn on the radio. The very last thing John wants to hear is music because he's been strangely void of any music in his head since he finished writing _Aurora_. It feels like a betrayal to absentmindedly hum along but he can't stop himself.

"Do you think we'll ever have a song that people get tired of listening to on the radio? Like the kind of song that gets stuck in your head because it's everywhere?" he asks as he hums along with a song he's coming to despise just because it's on every single commercials he sees on TV these days. It's catchy, though. He can't deny that.

"We don't play the sort of music that get featured on dishwasher ads."

There was that. "Should we? I mean, Elizabeth wants us to write something happier. Should we be writing happier music?" What he really wanted to ask was _If I write happy songs, does that mean my heart won't feel so bruised any longer?_

"Up to you. You're the one who writes the words. I just play the music."

"Do you ever want to write the words? I'd let you. This isn't just about me. You're just as much a part of the band as I am."

To his credit, Ronon thinks about this for a while. Really thinks about it. John can tell because his eyes narrow and he stops for a yellow light instead of racing through it. "It's your name that they say on the radio before the song plays. It should be you that writes the words."

"But maybe... maybe we change that." It's been something that's swirled around in his head long enough but hasn't wanted to bring it up. They have a good thing going and he hates the thought of losing it just because he tries to think he can change it up. "We don't have to keep being John Sheppard. Well, I do. The name sort of has to stay with me but it doesn't have to stay with you. With us."

Ronon's got that look that says he's thinking again. "What're you saying, exactly?"

"How 'bout we become a band and not a single person?"

"We are a band. Well, not really. We're just two people."

"So, let's make it a band. Let's... let's start all over."

Ronon's grin is fierce. "You trying to give Elizabeth a heart attack?"

But now that the words are out of his mouth, John likes the idea more and more. He's tired of being all about him. Ronon, even with his very noticeable looks, doesn't get near the amount of fan girls that he does. Everyone wants to feel his hair all the time or pry off the wrist band on his left wrist as if the secrets to the universe are hidden underneath.

Besides, maybe if it's not just him, they can play some happy music. That's really what John's trying to get at. He's not against happy music, it's just that he's not so sure he can produce it himself. Not in the state he's in.

"Something to think about," he mutters as he leans his head against the window and closes his eyes.

"There's that charity concert in a couple of weeks. Maybe we team up with someone then and see how it goes over. If it doesn't work out, no one's the wiser. If it catches on, we keep it."

John cracks an eye open, one side of his mouth quirking up in the start of the first real smile he's had on in weeks. "See, that's why I keep you around, Chewie. You're the real brains of this outfit."

Before he closes his eye again, he swears Ronon's ears flush a soft pink.

It takes another twenty minutes to get to the airport, all of which John uses to cat nap. Sleeping in hotel rooms has never been easy for him but there's nowhere else that he and Ronon really have to go. They've talked about renting a house but they've never been able to settle on the _where_ and that's got to be figured out before they can move on to the _what_. Rodney isn't any help figuring it out but they figure they'll find something with a basement that he can hook up all his gadgets and he'll be happy with whatever they decide.

The problem is Teyla and Jeannie. Not that they have any knowledge that they're keeping the idea in stasis. John doesn't want to commit to anything on the off-chance that Teyla replies to his texts and unanswered phone messages. He's thought about getting an email account just to have another way of pestering her but Rodney doesn't ever let him play with his laptops. He figures he'll just keep writing music that tells her (and the rest of the radio listening world) just how much he's sorry. _Aurora_ , especially, has more of his heart in it than he's altogether comfortable admitting but it doesn't appear he'll ever have to because she's never going to talk to him again.

Jeannie, on the other hand, talks to Ronon too much. He hasn't said anything out loud but John knows he doesn't want to settle down until Jeannie's wedding is over and she and Kaleb are safely ensconced in the house she keeps dreaming about. "She'll be an interior designer that no one understands enough to hire because, admit it, she's got some weird ideas. And he'll teach at some college somewhere and wear tweed and drink port. What is port?" The drunken, one-sided conversation had gone on for hours and only ended when Ronon declared that he didn't want to have 2.5 dogs and would never, ever walk a baby, no matter how much anyone begged him. He'd slumped down into unconsciousness then but John had gotten his meaning. They were who they were and no one was going to change them.

The van stopped and John came awake with a start. "We here?" he asked as he passed a hand over his gritty eyes.

"Yep."

"Okay, let's go get the cheese."

But Ronon was just staring at him with a funny sort of grin. "You might want to do something with your hair."

"It's not possible to do anything with this hair. No one cares, anyway. They just think it's cute." He did, however, put on a pair of aviator shades that he'd picked up last week. They went with the leather jacket he'd found at a second hand store, complete with military patches. He still looked like John Sheppard but now he looked a little more cool.

"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."


	5. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Sheppard's a small town boy wanting to make it big in the music industry. While he loses the family he was born into because of this decision, he gains a whole new one along the way.

John can only stare straight ahead, his sunglasses dangling from unresponsive fingers. He's forgotten that he and Ronon are in a crowded airport and are currently holding up the stream of foot traffic that has been forced to veer around them. "You could have told me," he mutters but only because he can't think of a damned thing to say to the person he really wants to talk to.

"You always were horrible at the thank you," Ronon mumbles back but his hulking presence is reassuring because, not only can John not turn and run, Teyla can't make a break for it, either. 

He's not sure where they've found her but he's not going to waste breath on meaningless questions when she's there in front of him, all five foot four inches of her, as beautiful as he remembers her but infinitely more real than his memories could ever make her. The smile on her face is brighter than he deserves, warmer than he can handle. In this instant, he can hear a new melody running through his head and it's happier than anything he's ever created.

"Hello, John."

"Teyla." Her name tumbles off his tongue, as if he'd only just learned it.

Her smile falters and he realizes that he doesn't seem like he's happy to see her. If he's not careful, she might just turn around and get back on the plane that brought her here. To him. To him? He doesn't know that for sure. With his luck, her being here might just be a coincidence. Somewhere might be the cheese shipment he'd been expecting to pick up and his path just happened to coincide with hers. Coincidence does exist. Doesn't it?

Torren laughs at something Jeannie is saying to him but John just barely registered the little boy. _Does he remember me_? On cue, the little boy begins to make an excited sound and, instead of the gibberish he was using the last time John saw him, he's using words in full sentences. A little adult with a childish lisp.

John puts his hand out but he's not certain what he wants to happen. Does he want to touch her? Does he want her to meet him halfway? He looks at the fingers, moves them experimentally, before sticking the hand back in his pocket. If there's one thing he knows for sure, it's that he can't do this. Not here. Not with the press of humanity threatening to push him down at the first available opportunity.

She's always been the strong one, pushing him toward the best course when he was unsure where to go. At different times in his life, she's been a mentor and an older sister. This is the first time she can't make the decision for him first, inspiring him to act on it. He needs to do that for himself and John wonders if he's capable.

"You've been pouting ever since she left," Ronon hisses from behind him and he's the one who's pushing him now. "At least act like you're happy to see her."

"Adam hasn't stopped playing the new album. It's... better than even I imagined it could be."

Even with the "in" she gives him, he doesn't let himself be drawn in. Even though the songs have been for her, he doesn't want to talk about the album or how much he's missed her. There's only one question he wants to ask and this isn't the time or the place. Unfortunately, John knows himself and he knows that if they pile into the van, one big happy (or just a little less miserable) family (as dysfunctional as the day is long but still a family when it all comes down to it), he's going to chicken out and the strain will eventually go away but this sudden urge to cut to the root of the problem won't. If he doesn't get it out of the way now, it will eat at him until he can't look her in the eye.

It's here, surrounded by irritated strangers, that he's going to have to ask the question. But not here. Not this exact spot. John looks around for something better but there's nothing that he can see. He acts on instinct, something he hasn't followed enough in his life because he's let people make his decisions for him. His father and Dave in his growing up years. Teyla and Adam later on. Now Elizabeth and Atlantis Records. Today, Ronon and Jeannie finally joined in that group because they should have told him. Plain and simple, he should not have had to walk into this situation blind. Not that he blames them but he's still angry.

Instinct wrote those songs that are still streaking up the charts but they were never for public consumption. He'd been angry and bitter when he wrote them and he didn't care who knew about his heartbreak. It was better, in a way, that he shared it with the world. Made it hurt a little less.

Now instinct is prodding him to take her hand and drag her forward. "I'll call you when we're done," he says over his shoulder as he tries not to look at the shocked expression on their faces.

"John," Teyla protests, her free hand trying to loosen his grip on her arm.

He understands that he's being abrupt and hurtful but he can't stop. Not without losing his momentum. His death grip is unnecessary and he does move from her arm to tangle his fingers with hers. It feels so right to walk like this with her that a lump of emotion blocks off his airway. They're enough out of the thoroughfare that he feels like maybe he can pull her into a tight embrace.

"I just... I want to talk, okay? Just a question and then we can do whatever it is that they have planned." He buries his face in her hair so that his words are muffled and nearly lost but she must hear enough of them because she nods, her free hand coming up to stroke the side of his neck. They stand this way for several moments before John is able to break free. The new song is still running through his head but it's muted. The words aren't all there yet and the melody is still strained. It's working itself out, he realizes. 

Doors slide open and they're outside. The cool afternoon air is fragrant with the flowers lining the walkways. They're near the concourse leading to one of the parking structures but it's relatively deserted. John loosens his hold on her so that he can pull off his jacket because she's just come from a much warmer climate. The leather hangs on her but she wraps her arms around her to keep it in place. There isn't a bench or anything designed to sit on but the ledge lining one of the planters is high enough that when he lifts her up on to it, their eyeline is nearly level.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" It's not the question he means to ask but it feels better to get on the same page.

"Sure. It was my first day shift. You ordered the ham and cheese but without the cheese and I asked you why you did not order the ham sandwich instead."

"Less vegetables." That wasn't the memory he was thinking of, although now he remembers the one she brought up, and suddenly he realizes he's asked the wrong question entirely. "Do you remember the first time we talked? I mean, really talked? Not just me giving you my order and you trying to convince me to eat more salad."

Her smile is wide and glorious. In her eyes, he can see that she is remembering the same thing he is. Instead of answering, she nods.

"You asked me about my dad and I spilled my guts. It didn't take more than six words from you before I just let it all out, tears and all. It didn't embarrass me to tell you, though. Not at all. You rubbed the back of my hand with your thumb and told me that my mom would have been proud of me for standing up to him as much as I had and how she wouldn't be disappointed if I didn't follow the path he'd laid out for me."

"She would be proud of you now. I am sure of it as I have been sure of nothing else."

Teyla reaches out her hand to him, an invitation for the same physical touch that she had so often given him over the years. He had always been passive about the gesture, letting her rub his hand or lace their fingers together. It had made him feel good because it meant that someone cared enough about him to offer it.

Now, when he takes her hand, he holds it in front of his mouth and kisses the tip of each finger gently. He isn't sure where he'd learned how to give instead of just taking but the way her eyes widen tells him that he's taken her away from the course she thought he was taking her on. She's no longer pushing him down this path because she has no idea where they're going. He's in complete control and it scares him, possibly more than he's ever been scared before.

"I told you everything, Teyla. Except maybe that I had a crush on you but I think you knew that. Even then, you still let me bunk out on your couch. You opened up your home and shared your family with me. You listened to my hopes and dreams. You heard something that made you held me even though everyone else just thought I was dreaming too big."

She nods, almost shy in the face of the reality of it all. Just when she thinks she knows where they're heading, once again, he lays her hand on his chest, over his thumping heart.

"I told you everything and you told me nothing. Not even when I asked. At first, I didn't want to make you angry because I didn't know if I'd ever have another friend like you. Then, I didn't want to pry. I wrote those songs for you, not just to tell you that I loved you but because I wanted a response. I wanted something back from you. Isn't that what Adam used to always tell me? A good song will always tell you truths about yourself when you hear it. I wrote those songs so that you might come to the realization that you loved me back."

"Of course I do." She smiles but she's trying to pull back her hand with the slightest of tugs. "Of course I love you, John. I have for a very long time."

"Tell me your secrets, Teyla. Tell me who Torren's father is."

She pales. "I don't see how that's important."

When she tugs at her hand, this time, he lets it fall away. "Then you didn't hear my song at all. You're hiding from me, Teyla. I laid it every part of my self out there with those lyrics. With my phone calls. With my texts. There's nothing you don't know. What you saw with Larrin was a sham. A power play to remind me just how pathetic I really was in the grand scheme of things."

"Have you been back?" she asks, as breathless as if she'd run up three flights of stairs.

"Nope. Told Elizabeth to take it off the roster. She threw a fit. Turns out Larrin owns quite a few clubs on the East Coast and she's a big deal on the music scene. Everyone who is anyone has been traumatized by her at one time or another. You should have seen what she did to Rodney after the set. Poor guy stammered for a couple of days before he got it all out of his system."

"You nearly ruined your career... for me?"

"It's just a job. At the end of the day, I wanted to be able to look myself in the mirror and know that I didn't give in to her just for a few more record sales. Right now, I happen to be giving the public what they want to hear. They'll get tired of me soon enough and then I'll just fade into the background and someone else will have the right sound. It's all just... well, it's all sort of pathetic, really. I don't want to be a one-hit wonder. I want to play music from my soul. You know? I don't want to be bought."

He takes a step away from her as he lets out a sigh. "There you go again. Giving me an opportunity to talk about myself. I've got enough money I can pay for a shrink now. I don't need you cleansing my soul for free."

"That's not-" but he waves her into silence. They stare at each other until she covers her face with her hands. "I didn't want you to hate me."

"Why would I hate you?"

"Because... because... does the name Michael ring a bell?"

He wants to say _It's a very common name_ until he remembers the smarmy man who worked for his father. He'd never come over much but John remembered him on two very distinct occasions. The man had been at his mother's funeral, hovering on the outskirts as he waited for the perfect excuse to be helpful. He hadn't given it much thought at the time but he'd also shoed up at John's graduation.

"He worked for my father." He doesn't want to acknowledge the creeping pain taking over his mid-section but he knows it's only going to get worse. She's got the look on her face that boded nothing good for the rest of this conversation.

"And I worked for him."

John runs a hand through his hair because he can't think of anything else to do. "But how it that possible? He didn't... I mean, he wasn't... how?"

"He finds secrets. That is his gift, if you will. My father had an addiction for awhile, one that he worked very hard to keep from all of us and from his employer. Michael found out and was going to tell. It scared my father straight but it was a constant temptation for him. That is why I started working at Brody's. It kept him away because he knew I was there. My sister took a similar job at one of the other local pubs. But still, Michael could have told his employer that it had been a problem so we were still forced to negotiate with him."

"So you..." but he couldn't bear to finish that sentence.

She lets her hands drop from in front of her face and her shoulders stiffen but she doesn't meet his gaze. "Not at first. He knew you liked to frequent Brody's so he wanted me to keep an eye on you. I was happy to until that moment you asked about. You told me everything as if we were friends and, I realized, we were. I told him, that night, that we no longer had a deal."

"And Torren?"

"He offered to let the whole thing go if I spent my free time with him. My father found out and went to his employer, telling him the whole story himself. It was too late to be completely free of him." There was a finality to her words that indicated why John hadn't seen Michael much in recent history. That was a secret she could take with her because he had no desire to know what had happened to the man.

"I... thank you. For telling me. I can see why it wasn't something you wanted brought up again."

A tear drop falls onto the lapel of the jacket. He almost misses it but he was staring at the pulse point in her throat, imaging what it would be like to kiss it and chastising himself a thousand different ways for thinking she would welcome the gesture now. Instead, he reaches out and flicks the moisture away. Teyla shies away from him as if she's afraid he's reaching out to hit her. There's a flash of fear in her quick glance and he begins to understand just what the memory has cost her. His life sucks a little less as he realizes what all she's been through.

"Torren's pretty terrific," he says quickly, wishing he could think of something more eloquent to say. "And you're a great mom. I mean, look at the kid. He's the spitting image of you. And, well, you'd never know. You know?" He's babbling but he can't stop because he's afraid that, in the next silence, she might run away and he'll never find her this time. What he really wants to do is to take her hand again but he knows this will be a bad thing, no matter how he means the gesture.

So he's taken completely off-guard when she reaches out to grab his shirt and drags him toward her. When he's standing between her thighs, she wraps her legs around his waist and lays her head on his shoulder, her hands not losing their death grip on his clothing. They stay like that for a long while because John's afraid to move or breath or do something wrong. When she places a small kiss on his skin just above the neckline of his shirt, he wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry I ran away." Her whisper is a mere vibration against his skin.

He buries his face in her hair again but he can't get enough of the satiny feel of it. "I'm more sorry than you can ever know that I didn't move heaven and hell to find you."

"But you did." When he stiffens, his mind trying to figure out the meaning of her words, she lets her lips drift higher along the column of his neck. "A good song will always tell you truths about yourself when you hear it, remember? It was the only way you knew how to reach me and the only way I would hear."

"Don't ever leave me. If you need to be closer to your family, I'll make it work. I'll-"

She moves her lips over his in the most extraordinary kiss John has ever experienced. The words and the music all coalesce together in his head as she nips at his bottom lip with her teeth and John finds himself near tears from how perfect it all is. In this moment, he has everything and it doesn't matter that he's starting to shiver as the wind picks up or that his phone has started to ring or that one of Teyla's hands is tangled in his hair and she's trying to work it free with painful tugs. This is exactly what John has wanted all his life, he just didn't realize it until this moment and, now that he has it, he never wants it to end.


End file.
